


Marble

by chanderson



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crying, Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Older Man/Younger Man, QPQVerse, Short One Shot, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: Alex has never seen George cry.Sure he’s seen his eyes get a little misty. Heard him get choked up.But real tears? Never. He’s a stoic to rival Zeno of Citium.





	Marble

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the [Quid Pro Quo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5880157/chapters/13551823) verse, but you can read it independently. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Alex has never seen George cry. 

Sure he’s seen his eyes get a little misty. Heard him get choked up. 

But real tears? Never. He’s a stoic to rival Zeno of Citium. 

Alex tries to tell him, tries to explain that it’s okay; he can break sometimes. He can let Alex hold him and make it better. But George has a backbone of steel, incapable of bending or breaking. Inflexible. Firm. He takes everything standing up—calm, levelheaded. A marble statue fit for the Louvre. 

Alex wonders what it would take to break George. He hopes he doesn’t have to find out. 

\---

It’s an uncharacteristically cold, April night, and they’re standing in George’s kitchen cooking together, the skillet popping and hissing as Alex sautés some vegetables. George is in a rare silly mood—he’s had a few too many glasses of wine—and is swaying along to the music Alex has playing, a lazy smile on his face. He grabs Alex around the waist and wraps him up in a hug, kissing the shell of his ear. 

“You’re so beautiful, Princess,” he murmurs and Alex laughs a little breathlessly, blushing. 

“Oh shut up,” he mutters, playfully shaking George off. “If you keep distracting me I’m going to overcook these vegetables.” George rolls his eyes and pats Alex’s ass. 

“You’re no fun—”

George’s personal phone rings shrilly, startling both of them. He frowns and shows Alex the screen. It’s Eliza. 

If Alex didn’t know George so well, he wouldn’t know that anything was wrong. 

But he knows George. There’s a telltale clench of his jaw, a slight shift of his weight, a particular way of furrowing his eyebrows, that lets Alex know something is wrong. 

George listens to Eliza silently, standing perfectly still. When he finally speaks, his voice is as smooth as ever. “We’ll meet you at the hospital—” He sighs loudly through his nose, agitated. “Eliza, please, try to stay calm. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Alex and I will leave right now. Just stay calm.” 

“Sir—George?” Alex whispers, turning the stove off and grabbing his phone and wallet. “What’s going on?” 

George shakes his head and holds up his finger. “Okay, I’ll see you soon. Remember, it’s going to be okay. Martha’s going to be fine.” George hangs up and moves to grab his keys, but Alex snatches them up first, shaking his head. 

“There’s no way you’re driving. You’ve had too much to drink.” George opens his mouth to argue and Alex shakes his head tersely. “No, George. Now, can you please tell me what’s going on?” 

“Martha’s been in an accident.” They’re halfway out the door, and Alex stops, his heart skipping a beat. 

“She’s _what?”_ he asks, gaping at George. 

“Alexander. Please,” George says wearily, motioning to the door. “We need to hurry.” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

Alex drives them to the hospital, thinks it’s a fucking miracle that he doesn’t crash George’s nice, shiny SUV. Thanks the fucking Lord that he doesn’t run it right off the road into a ditch. 

The whole time he keeps glancing over at George, trying to gauge his mood, but George gives nothing away. He’s like a wall—face blank, eyes void of emotion. Alex may as well be in the car alone. 

As they pull into the parking garage at GBU Hospital, Alex thinks he sees George’s lips trembling. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light.

\---

Eliza is a sobbing mess, sitting hunched over in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Alex rushes toward her and pulls her against his chest, running his fingers through her long hair. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “She’s going to be fine.” He repeats it over and over again like a broken record. At some point, he manages to pry Eliza’s fingers off his shirt and gets her some coffee. George is standing off to the side, talking on his phone in a low voice, rattling of instructions to Lafayette. 

Every time the doctor comes out, George listens to her carefully. He stands there with his arms crossed, a calm look on his face, nodding along to the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth: _“Lacerations, head trauma, hemorrhaging, brain dead, probably not going to wake up, I’m so sorry, Senator.”_

Eliza starts to cry again, burying her face in Alex’s chest. 

George just nods, his face the same stone mask. Unmoving. Unblinking. He doesn’t even fucking flinch, just takes it all in and rubs his chin. Alex hears him ask about life support and medical directives, listens for any sign of a tremor in his voice. 

Nothing. His voice is as smooth and steady as a piano chord.

Eliza sobs into Alex’s neck. He feels his own throat start to close up, blinks away a sudden rush of emotion. George must notice because he asks Alex if he’s okay, which is fucking stupid, because Alex isn't the one with a dead wife. 

“I’m okay.” He looks up and stares into George’s eyes. “Are you?” 

He doesn’t answer, just follows the doctor down a hallway and disappears. 

\---

They schedule the funeral for three days later. George closes all his offices, issues a statement asking for privacy. They don’t get it, of course. Even Alex gets calls from reporters, and he has to restrain himself from telling them to fuck right off, please and thank you. 

The funeral is the worst part. It’s all so phony, so hollow—a giant fucking production. Eliza has to pretend that she’s not dying on the inside. Alex has to pretend that it doesn’t hurt to hear George talk about Martha like they were lovers and not just friends. 

George barely says a word to anyone. He just sits there and stares at the cherry wood coffin at the front of the room like he can't fucking believe this is happening to him. 

Alex watches George’s wall start to crumble, finally sees the chinks in his armor. 

His face may be hewn of marble, but his eyes are very much human. In the end, no one is completely immune to pain. 

\---

That night they lay burrowed under a mound of blankets in the master bedroom at Mt. Vernon. Alex kisses George’s chest and reaches down to twine their fingers together. 

“Are you okay, George?” he finally asks. “You haven’t said much today.” Alex absently rubs George's knuckles with his thumb as he lets out a tight, choked laugh. 

“I just can’t believe she’s dead,” he says hoarsely, disbelieving. “It didn’t really hit me until today. I was up there talking about her and I realized that she’s really gone.” His breath hitches and Alex instinctively squeezes him in a hug, presses a gentle kiss to his jaw. 

“It’s okay,” Alex soothes. “It’s okay if you need to cry.” 

It’s like that’s all George has needed: Permission. 

He rolls onto his side, curls in on himself, and chokes on a sob.

“She’s _gone_ , Alex.” His voice breaks and Alex scoots up behind him, spooning him. 

“I know. You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.” 

They lay there as George sobs, his entire body shaking in Alex’s arms. He cries until he doesn’t have any tears left, turns and buries his face in Alex’s neck after he’s finished. Tells Alex that he’s sorry, tries to hide the way the words get caught in his throat. Alex just holds him close.

Tomorrow George will put himself back together, but for tonight Alex holds him and watches him break. 

**Author's Note:**

> Idk this is just a dumb short thing b/c I was bored. 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
